nownovels Chapter 254 He's Ready
Chapter 254 He's Ready
Chapter 254 He's Ready (4.4K) (2/2) (Requesting Monthly Tickets)
As October quietly arrived, Hogwarts Castle was shrouded in a chilly mist, the Black Lake deepened in color, and the mountains were tinged with more rust and gold.
The daily rhythm seemed to have stabilized again, with classes, homework, and Quidditch practice taking up most of the students' time.
As expected, the scratch on Draco Malfoy's arm, which had long since healed and left no scar, became the excuse for his father, Lucius Malfoy, to attack Hogwarts.
A series of strongly worded and accusatory letters flew to the headmaster's office and the Ministry of Magic, accusing Hagrid of "gross negligence" and "disregard for student safety," and demanding his immediate dismissal.
However, when these surging undercurrents reached the walls of Hogwarts, they seemed to have hit an invisible barrier.
The Ministry of Magic did send officials to "get to the bottom of things," but after "informal communication" with Headmaster Dumbledore and, according to some rumors, Professor Jim Lynch, the matter faded away rather than a big deal.
There was no hearing, no formal condemnation, not even a public warning letter.
Lucius Malfoy also fell silent, as if he had never sent those accusatory letters.
On the surface, the crisis seems to have passed.
Malfoy had a somber face during Potions class, but he no longer boasted as before about his father's impending sending Hagrid to Azkaban.
But Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew that this temporary peace was not due to the Malfoys' kindness, but rather to the influence of their Uncle Lynch.
He acted like a floodgate, temporarily holding back the raging flood.
But they also remembered Lynch's words—that once he determined Hagrid hadn't improved and wasn't worth protecting, the gate would open.
At that point, Hagrid, having lost his protection, will undoubtedly be dismissed.
This unresolved situation put immense pressure on the trio.
They were almost itching to "remodel" Hagrid and bring him to the level of a "safety professor" that Uncle Lynch (by the standards set by Hermione) expected as soon as possible.
However, getting Hagrid to understand what constitutes a "risk to ordinary students" is more difficult than one might imagine.
He did try to meet the requirements, abandoning those obviously high-risk creatures, but even the most ordinary Flobber caterpillar seemed to hold astonishing "surprises" in his hands.
During a pre-class preparation, Hagrid proudly showed them his "improved" plan: to make the observation "more exciting," he placed a small jar of "specially made nutritional sauce" on each workbench and invited the students to "apply it to the caterpillars themselves to promote their molting."
"Just honey, moss powder, and a tiny bit of bird tears—absolutely nutritious!" Hagrid assured him confidently. "Your fingers might feel a little cool when you apply it, but it'll feel quite nice!"
Hermione cautiously touched the sticky sauce with the tip of her wand, her face instantly turning pale: "Hagrid! Bird's Tears is listed in 'Properties of Common Low-Tier Potion Ingredients' as causing mild, intermittent magical irritation to a wizard's skin! For underage wizards, this could cause rashes or even temporary paralysis!"
Seeing Hagrid's dejected expression, as if he'd made another mistake, Ron couldn't help but tug at Hermione's sleeve and whisper, "It's just a rash, sounds a million times safer than the swelling potion from Snape's class—maybe we can turn a blind eye?"
"Absolutely not!" Hermione retorted firmly, her voice low but unwavering. "Ron, the key issue isn't how dangerous it is, but that Hagrid doesn't even realize it's a risk! We might let a slight chill pass us by today, but tomorrow he might feel a little pain—it doesn't matter! The real judgment rests with Professor Lynch. Do you think he can tolerate such a fundamental misunderstanding of risk?"
Harry and Ron were speechless.
They had no choice but to bite the bullet again and explain to the bewildered and disappointed Hagrid why any teaching activity that made his fingers feel "a little cold" was not allowed.
They repeatedly emphasized the standards of "zero stimulation" and "absolutely harmless," and seeing Hagrid's eyes, which were trying to understand but couldn't hide his confusion, I felt a wave of helplessness.
This difference in understanding, rooted in the essence of life, is like an invisible chasm between them and Hagrid, making every "correction" exceptionally difficult.
After repeated, even earnest, persuasion from Harry and his friends, Hagrid reluctantly abandoned his "more exciting" biological plans.
The following magical animal conservation classes turned into simple observation and feeding of florper caterpillars.
These slimy, lifeless creatures that only know how to eat raw vegetables are safe, but they also make the classroom exceptionally dull.
The students couldn't help but yawn, and even Neville almost fell asleep while taking care of the caterpillars.
Hagrid himself appeared listless, as if his soul had been ripped away, and each class felt like fulfilling a painful obligation.
"They—they're quite interesting, aren't they?" Hagrid forced a huge, strained smile, pointing to the slowly wriggling pink creatures. "Look at them eating the leaves—"
His response from the audience was often a deathly silence and more hidden yawns.
Harry felt terrible seeing Hagrid like that.
He knew that Hagrid loved those magical and dangerous creatures; that was his true passion.
But now, to keep his position, he has to suppress his true nature. It's a painful compromise, and Harry isn't sure if Hagrid can hold on in the long run, or if this Hagrid will still be the Hagrid they know and love.
Meanwhile, Harry himself was hitting a roadblock in learning the Patronus Charm. The extra tutoring twice a week was progressing at a frustratingly slow pace.
The problem wasn't with the gestures or pronunciation of the spell itself, but with Harry himself.
"Patriot!" He waved his wand again and again, but only a thin, almost invisible wisp of silver mist would emerge from the tip of the wand, instantly dissipating into the air, unable to even maintain its most basic form.
"You need to concentrate, Harry," Professor Lupin instructed patiently, though he himself was pale and looked more tired than usual. "Remember a truly happy memory, a memory strong enough to sustain the entire spell."
Harry tried hard to remember.
He thought of the first time he rode the Nimbus 2000, of winning the Quidditch Cup, of the happy times he spent with Ron and Hermione in the castle, of the days he lived with Uncle Lynch at the Stone Tower Merchant Guild—these memories were indeed warm, but they never seemed “powerful” or “pure” enough.
Subconsciously, other thoughts always surfaced—the fear of falling while riding a broom, the worry about Snape's harassment after winning the competition, and the inevitable thoughts of the dangers his friends faced when he was with them—even deeper, the ice water from the tap on Privet Drive, the dark cupboard under the stairs, the Dursleys' cold stares, and Dudley's pursuit—these somber undertones always subtly eroded the light of those bright moments without him even realizing it.
In the more than ten years of his life, he had very few truly carefree and purely happy memories, like drops of water in the desert, which could hardly gather into the immense power needed to summon a guardian angel.
The sense of frustration and anxiety grew day by day.
On one hand, there was Hagrid's precarious teaching position and the difficult "reformation," and on the other hand, there was his own stagnant progress in learning spells. In the chilly October air, Harry felt the burden on his shoulders growing heavier and heavier.
Inside the stone house in the forbidden forest.
Lynch was sitting in front of the fireplace, reading a book called "The Complete Book of Strange and Non-Existent Creatures in the Magical World," looking at the information about Dementors—although most of it was unverified legend, there were still a few points worth pondering.
Suddenly, his expression changed, and the specially made Galleon appeared in his palm.
Reggie's hoarse voice came through, less calm and more tense than usual: "His condition is much more stable, and we can communicate."
A look of anticipation flashed in Lin Qi's eyes. He didn't say much, only briefly replying, "Location."
After receiving the coordinates of the safe house near a small village on the outskirts of London from Reggie, Lynch closed his eyes again.
An invisible magical energy rippled slightly around him.
The next moment, in London, Diagon Alley, on the top floor of the Stone Tower Chamber of Commerce, in Lynch's private office.
A very subtle distortion occurred in the space, and Lynch's raven-shaped clone appeared in the center of the room.
It didn't stop, but flew straight to the open window used for ventilation.
I jumped out of the window, and the cold night wind rushed in.
Without the slightest hesitation, the raven flapped its powerful wings and soared rapidly, like a black arrow shot into the sky, disappearing straight into the low-hanging, dense clouds.
Under the cover of clouds, its silhouette vanished completely from any possible observation from the ground. Only the subtle changes in airflow as it pierced through the clouds indicated that it was moving at an astonishing speed, silently and stealthily speeding above the sea of clouds toward that designated coordinate on the outskirts of London.
With its extraordinary sense of direction and magical orientation, the raven flew through the clouds for about fifteen minutes before beginning to descend and penetrate the thick cloud cover.
Below, a quiet little village nestled in the hills, sparsely populated, comes into view.
The raven's sharp gaze swept across the sleeping fields and sparse houses below.
Its flight path was slightly adjusted, and it eventually hovered over a village house that looked rather old and even a bit crooked.
An ordinary person's gaze would easily pass over this unremarkable building, but in the raven's magically imbued eyes, a layer of extremely fine magical barrier, like a heat wave distorting the air, could be clearly seen enveloping the house and a small area around it, cleverly "blurring" it from both physical presence and magical detection.
The raven folded its wings and landed as lightly as a real feather in front of the mottled wooden door of the house. Just before it touched the ground, the raven's outline began to twist and stretch, and black feathers merged into its body as if the tide were receding. Its size rapidly expanded, and in an instant, Lin Qi was standing on the spot, wearing that exquisite suit, with his usual calm expression on his face.
He raised his hand and tapped the weathered wooden door three times with his knuckles, neither too hard nor too soft.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The three clear knocks were exceptionally distinct in the otherwise silent night.
The door was almost immediately pulled open a crack, and a pair of wary eyes peered out from behind it before the crack widened.
The person who opened the door was a wizard dressed in dark, close-fitting clothes and with a wiry build. He wore a badge of the Stone Tower Merchant Guild on his chest—he was a core member of the First Order's combat division.
"Your Excellency," the battle wizard said in a low, steady voice, stepping aside to make way for him and giving Lin Qi a standard chest-thumping salute, his eyes filled with awe.
Lin Qi nodded slightly and stepped into the house.
The interior of the safe house contrasted sharply with its dilapidated exterior.
The Seamless Stretch Charm created a comfortable and spacious area, filled with the subtle scents of lemongrass and mint. The fireplace burned steadily, reflecting the simple yet cozy furnishings: several upholstered armchairs surrounded the fireplace, and a walnut bookcase stood in the corner, neatly arranged with various magical tomes. Most striking was the ancient peephole on the mantel, slowly rotating and emitting a soft hum.
Two First Order wizards were talking in hushed tones in a corner of the living room. When Lynch entered, they immediately stopped talking and stood up to greet him.
"Thank you for your hard work, everyone." Lin Qi's voice was calm but carried an undeniable air of authority.
His gaze swept quickly across the room, finally settling on Reggie, who was standing alone by the window.
Even from a distance, Lynch could clearly sense Reggie's abnormal state. The usually calm and composed Reggie now seemed to be bent over by something invisible.
As he slowly turned around, Lin Qi saw the bloodshot in his eyes. His feigned composure crumbled the moment he saw Lin Qi, and his scarred face could not hide his deep exhaustion, nor the struggle revealed in his tightly pursed lips.
"Lynch." Reggie's voice was hoarser and drier than usual, as if each word was being forced out of his throat with great effort.
Lynch keenly noticed that Reggie's hand, hanging at his side, had unconsciously clenched, his knuckles turning white from the force. This subtle movement betrayed the turmoil within him, making him seem completely different from the usually aloof and composed Reggie.
A chilling fear was silently seeping into Reggie's entire body, even under Lynch's calm gaze.
He found himself actually afraid—afraid of the upcoming formal interrogation of Sirius.
This emotion was terrifyingly foreign to him.
He feared the truth would come out, and that his brother, whom he had hated for twelve years and believed to have deserved his fate, was indeed innocent, just as Lin Qi had speculated.
If that's true—what does that mean?
This means that Reggie not only remained indifferent in the past, but also never considered or even tried to explore the slightest possibility when Sirius was trapped in Tutu and suffering torment worse than death.
He accepted the official conclusion with a clear conscience, completely classifying the person who shared similar blood as a "damned sinner" and leaving him to rot in the hell of Azkaban.
This is not just an oversight; it will be an irreparable and enormous mistake built upon the blood and flesh pain of loved ones.
What terrified him even more, and even made him feel somewhat self-loathing, was that deep down, he shamefully and secretly hoped that this terrible speculation was true, and that Sirius was innocent.
This hope clashed violently with his long-established beliefs and the hatred that sustained him, almost tearing his reason apart.
This anxiety began to grow quietly from the moment he notified Lin Qi, and intensified as Lin Qi's arrival time drew near.
The fear swelled until now, when Lin Qi stood truly before him, his calm gaze seemingly able to pierce through all his chaotic thoughts. This fear finally reached its peak, pressing heavily on his chest, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Lynch didn't miss the struggle and the complex, almost pleading look in Reggie's eyes.
He said to the other wizards in the living room, "Give us some space to talk."